


Quatre

by badwolfbadwolf, eeyore9990, goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, D/s, Daddy Kink, Felching, Finger Sucking, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2503265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990, https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We knew each other years ago,” Peter murmurs to the boy on his lap, incessant curiosity prompting him to ask why his Daddy is staring at the man across the room. “Back when I was just another rich playboy, merely an heir to the Hale fortune.” Peter finishes his drink, hand skating along Stiles' back. “And Chris, well, Chris was the scion of the powerful Argent family, self-made millionaires. We frequented the same party circles when we were young, entertained each other a few nights.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quatre

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I just want Peter and Chris to dress Stiles and Isaac up in something lacy and show off their boys to each other. and then porn ofc.

“We knew each other years ago,” Peter murmurs to the boy on his lap, incessant curiosity prompting him to ask why his Daddy is staring at the man across the room. “Back when I was just another rich playboy, merely an heir to the Hale fortune.” Peter finishes his drink, hand skating along Stiles' back. “And Chris, well, Chris was the scion of the powerful Argent family, self-made millionaires. We frequented the same party circles when we were young, entertained each other a few nights.” He settles the empty cup in Stiles hands. “But then the fire happened.”

Stiles nods, wide-eyed, knows all about the fire that left Peter in charge of his young nieces and nephew.

“Chris had to take over as CEO when his father got sick,” Peter continues, “and we drifted apart.” He looks over again and this time their gazes meet across the room. There's a brief moment of recognition, and then they both let their eyes slide away, too proud to be the first to bend, the first to approach the other.

Stiles wiggles out of his lap. “Look, he sent his boy to get drinks. I'll go talk to him.” And before Peter can say a word, Stiles is off, bright eyes focused on his target. He tries to strike up a flirty conversation, asks Isaac about his Daddy over there, but Isaac’s tight-lipped. Chris is very protective and doesn’t just share things with everyone, so Isaac’s developed that habit, too. But they end up talking, Isaac’s tongue getting a little looser with alcohol, his face growing flush and rosy.

Eventually Peter drifts over, having deduced that Stiles was a little too wrapped u pin his conversation to bring his drink back. He nudges his way between the two boys, hand possessively on Stiles’ hip but a little closer to Isaac than Chris is comfortable with.

Chris decides to suck it up and come over.

Peter’s still the asshole that Chris remembers he was, but _damn_ does he look good, his shirt artfully unbuttoned, eyes blue and bright. And yeah, maybe Chris is getting ideas when he sees how Stiles is biting his lip and looking up at both of them through his dark lashes, because he just _knows_ how good he looks, how good they’d _all_ look.

Chris tosses down his glass of whiskey a little quicker than he’d intended, and grabs Isaac on the ass and tells him they have to leave _now_ before he does something totally stupid like getting into a bragging war with Peter about how good his boy looks on his knees in some black lacy panties. But of course, he says it loud, loud enough for Peter and Stiles to hear.

While Peter’s too cool to rise to the bait, Stiles isn’t. Peter’s boy is impetuous and spastic, and the only way to really get peace with him around is to keep his mouth full. So Stiles defends his own honor, talks about the silk stockings he has, with the red garter belt—because panties are so 1999, seriously, a garter belt has all the aesthetics while still allowing free access to everything important—and how he can kneel for _hours_ without bitching about his knees.

Peter just smiles indulgently, and turns Stiles’ head toward him, slipping three fingers into his mouth for Stiles to suckle on. Isaac’s entire attention is caught by the maneuver, because he’s all loose and buzzed and he’s been staring at that pink mouth all night, wondering what it would feel like wrapped around his cock or—he squirms, all restless—what it would look like wrapped around _Chris_ ’ cock while the guy with the thick neck plows into Isaac.

He knows they’ve mentioned the guy’s name, but Isaac’s not too proud to admit he wasn’t paying attention because Stiles is _very_ distracting. Plus, Chris is right there, a hot line along his side, his wide, capable hand squeezing his ass and nudging rudely at his crack through his pants until Isaac can feel the tips of his fingers prodding at his hole and…

Isaac swallows again, mouth dropping open as he watches Stiles’ eyes go hazy as he suckles and moans. Peter notices Isaac’s reaction, of course he does, and a slow lazy smile spreads across his face.

"I wonder if could interest you in a little wager, Christopher," he purrs. "A little game of self-control, a test of willpower."

Chris’ arches a suspicious brow, but there’s a light in those blue eyes that tell Peter he’s interested, so he continues on. ”Your boy against mine. Whichever one comes first, loses.”

The boys lock gazes, Isaac’s blue eyes wide and dark as he watches Stiles cheeks hollow around Peter’s fingers, the amber eyes sparkling with mischief in return.

Chris considers a moment. “And the forfeit?”

Peter smiles sweetly. “If I win, I get _you_.”

Chris kind of knows he’s going to lose, because Isaac’s control has never been good, and he has to work so hard at not coming. Which normally has him over Chris’ knee with a very red bottom, sometimes seeing how many orgasms Chris can wring out of him before he breaks down and cries. Not that either of them mind at all, but strategically this is really not Chris’ best move, so he surprises himself when he finds himself agreeing.

"And if I win, I get _you_ then?” Chris replies, that third drink giving him a bit of liquid courage.

Peter nods, pulling his fingers out of Stiles’ mouth and claims those lips in a sweet kiss before giving him a slight push towards Isaac and Chris. Stiles grins saucily and goes right for Isaac’s waistband, making the boy blush immediately and draws back behind Chris, hanging on to his jacket.

"Play nice, Stiles," Peter purrs, leading the way out the door and down to his private car and away from the prying eyes of the other party-goers. Money can buy a lot of things, but a public orgy is probably out of the question.

As soon as the door slams, Stiles has Isaac pinned up against the leather seat, one hand pushing underneath the stiff dress shirt while the other works on his fly. The sight of both of their pink lips pressed together has Chris shifting in his seat and brushing up against Peter’s warm leg and fighting not to touch himself as he watches.

Isaac feels hot all over, both from the obvious enthusiasm of the other boy in his lap, and the idea that Chris is sitting back watching it all. And then Stiles gets his clever fingers on one of Isaac’s nipples and he makes a tiny little moan right against the cupids bow of Stiles’ lips. Isaac can feel them curve right before Stiles ducks his head and latches those lips onto the nipple that he’s been plucking at.

Both of his hands work their way into Isaac’s pants and for a long few seconds Isaac is lost in sensation and then it comes fuzzily to him that this is supposed to be a _contest_ , and he’s already losing. Badly. So he focuses himself, with no small amount of difficulty because Stiles’ mouth is absolutely _sinful_ , and uses his leverage to flip Stiles, to pin him down along the bench of the seat, smirking slowly as he sees the other boy’s pupils dilate at the manhandling.

Peter leans against Chris with an appreciative murmur for Isaac’s maneuver, and then whispers into Chris’ ear. “There’s no reason _you_ have to hold back, Christopher.” And he reaches for the older man’s zipper, curves his palm against the obvious bulge and presses slightly, while leaning in to nip at Chris’ neck playfully.

Isaac… well, he’s not entirely adverse to losing because just the idea of watching Chris get fucked by Peter is enough to make him squirm against Stiles. His own fast orgasm would just be a bonus.

But he also knows what his Daddy looks like, all stern and commanding, and the thought of Chris pulling that persona around him, of him _dominating_ the sassy, too-urbane Peter has him locking down his own response in ways he’s never before been able to achieve.

He slots his thigh between Stiles’, whispers in his ear, “Look at your Daddy. See his hand? He’s getting a good, solid grip on my Daddy. He’s trying to test me. He must think I find that hot. Which, yeah. I do. Because I know the weight of that cock. I know what it feels like pushing deep into my ass. I know exactly how Peter will choke on his own words when my Daddy slams into him the first time. And you want to see that too. Don’t you?” Isaac’s whisper is accompanied by the hard length of his thigh grinding against Stiles.

"And just think," he says, sweetening the deal breathlessly as his own cock finds a perfect place to rub in the crease of Stiles’ hip, "if my daddy plows yours, _we_ get to suck your daddy while he’s being fucked.”

And the filthy things pouring from those sweet lips, and the way that Isaac’s holding him down, rubbing his thigh determinedly against his painfully hard cock, is nearly enough to send Stiles over the edge, but he grits his teeth and holds on, squirms a hands around to slide down Isaac’s back, cups his ass and presses his fingers into the crease there.

Isaac ducks his head quickly and bites down at the curve of Stiles’ neck, and that does it for him. Stiles clutches Isaac tight, clings to the taller boy as he keeps grinding until Stiles is whimpering in over-stimulation, and only then does he pull back, flushed and triumphant, turns to look at Chris.

His Daddy nods permission, and Isaac finally curls his hand around himself and kneels over Stiles, strips his cock furiously until he’s spilling over his hands with a great gasping breath, letting it splash over the sated boy beneath him.

Peter gently disengages from Chris, beckons Stiles to him, and bids his boy part those beautiful lips. Stiles is still blissed out from his orgasm, and just blinks slowly as the heavy weight of his Daddy’s cock settles across his tongue.

Chris settles Isaac on his lap, arranges his boy’s clothing so that he can slide his length leisurely between the parted cheeks, fucks along his boy’s cleft slowly, just keeping himself hard until he pins Peter to his own bed and fucks him into the mattress.

They’ve been driving apparently, hardly noticing the movement of the car due to the lurid show, and when they stop with a slight lurch Isaac clutches to Chris’ trousers so he’s not thrown off. Stiles makes a guttural grunt as Peter’s cock is forced down his throat further and then they all make themselves presentable so they can walk outside for a moment before disappearing into Peter’s swanky building.

"The penthouse? Isn’t that a bit cliche, Peter?" Chris quips as they wait restlessly in the elevator, Peter looking not too disappointed that he’s lost the little bet.

They don’t pay much attention to their surroundings once the doors swing open and they’re past the heavy interior door, because Chris crowds Peter up against the wall, hands warm on his chest and running down his ribs. And his body is thicker than he remembers, like Peter’s  _ all grown up _ , but he still has that same wicked glint to his eyes and sharp smile as he paws at Chris’ shirt buttons. They lean close together, so so close without touching lips yet, just waiting to see who the first will be to close the gap.

"Still like it rough?" Chris whispers, smirking slightly. From the corner of his eye he can see Stiles and Isaac staring with wet, bitten-red mouths, the two of them watching ramping up his arousal and tugging on Peter’s neck to make him sink gracefully to his knees.

Peter doesn’t wait for Chris to make the first move. He’s barely hit his knees when he’s yanking at Chris’ clothes, pulling his cock out and just swallowing it down.

Isaac can’t help letting out a little moan at that, eyes bright and greedy as he watches avidly, hand shoved down the front of his pants. He hadn’t been expecting _this_. He’d expected Chris to force Peter to his knees, to shove, calm and controlled, down Peter’s throat until Peter gagged, eyes sparkling with uncontrollable tears. He hadn’t expected _Peter_ to be in charge. It takes his breath away and makes his cock jump in his hand, already completely hard again. Looking up, he sees the shine of triumph in Stiles’ gaze. Sees how proudly he stands there, lips twisted into a knowing smirk as he stares back at Isaac.

That look says _my daddy is better than your daddy._ It’s a schoolyard taunt and Isaac isn’t going to let it slide.

Sidling up to Chris, Isaac places a soft, sucking kiss to his neck. Feels Chris draw in a sharp breath, sees his eyes snap back to focused. Isaac sighs, happy, when Chris narrows his eyes and, face hardening, looks down at Peter.

Chris reaches down, gets a grip on Peter’s ears, and slows him down, controls his movements. Holds him back until Peter looks up, a question in his eyes.

“You’re going to stop when I say. Then, you’re going to take off your clothing, fold everything neatly, and kneel on the sofa. Your boy will fetch the lube. If you’re very good, I’ll let Isaac suck you while I fuck you.” Pulling back until the very tip of his cock is just tracing the divot in Peter’s full lower lip, Chris murmurs, “I just don’t think you have it in you to be good…”

There's a long moment where Peter looks up at him, and Chris thinks maybe he's not that into this after all, but then Peter lifts his chin, ever arrogant, and gives a tiny nod of assent. Chris grins slowly and then tugs Peter forward, fills his hot mouth with Chris' cock until it presses against the back of Peter's throat and he holds there a minute, re-learning Peter's reactions, seeing if he still likes the same things.

Isaac makes a tiny little sound of _want_ , because he loves to be in that position, on his knees, breath held for his Daddy, and Chris looks over with a smirk.

“You'll get your chance, baby boy.” He glances to Stiles, who's nibbling at his plush lower lip, and jerks his head. Stiles waits until Peter gives him a nod of permission, and then gets everything he thinks Chris might want, the lube and a handful of their personal favorite toys, just in case, and sets them all on the table by the sofa. Chris has resumed fucking into Peter's mouth, after finally letting him breathe, and he's merciless with the other man, but murmuring soft praise.

Isaac squirms in place where he's taken seat on an oversized chair, and seeing that no one's given either of them any new orders, Stiles plops his little ass right on Isaac, straddles the golden haired boy's lap and pulls him into a kiss, fingers sliding up beneath his shirt to flick at his nipples a moment.

When he pulls back, Stiles whispers into Isaac's ear. “We should give them something to look at. I've got a collection of lingerie in the walk-in. Shall we go get pretty?”

Chris takes a deep breath as he feel the first blush of warmth spreading across his gut, and pulls himself regretfully from the eager mouth, smearing the fat head across Peter's face a moment, marking him with precome.

“Now,” he says firmly, “Strip and kneel where I told you.”

Peter manages to look graceful and smug at the same time as he follows the orders, folding his clothes neatly and then kneeling up on the couch, rounded ass pushed out enticingly. And damn, Peter’s been working out since Chris last saw him, the muscles of his shoulders curved beautifully as he props his hands up on the back of the couch. Chris takes his time feeling over them, running his fingertips along the thick veins in Peter’s arms and biting down on his neck as the movement brings their bodies flush.

"Like what you see?" Peter murmurs, still grinning.

Chris can’t wait ‘til he gets inside the smug bastard and strips that from his face, makes him cry.

"You’re still an asshole," Chris says, though there’s not any heft behind it. They’ve taken long enough with exploration that the two boys return and Chris pulls himself away, his throat getting thick as he takes in the two of them.

Isaac is the taller, his legs impossibly long in a pair of silk stockings attached to a black garter belt and nothing else. It’s obviously Stiles’ because it just barely fits the boy, the seams looking like they are trembling to cover him, and Chris calls him over so he can push his hands under the straps and squeeze his firm ass. He gives him a sweet kiss and then pulls him in front of his body, putting Isaac’s hands on Peter’s hips and guiding him lower so he’s cupping the man’s balls.

"Isaac’s going to get you ready for my cock while your boy tends to me. The spoils of victory and all," Chris says with a smile. Isaac grins and bites his bottom lip in that endearing way he has, grabbing up the lube excitedly while Chris beckons to Stiles. Stiles has on stretchy lace panties that cover more of him than Isaac’s lingerie does, but the tip of his cock is pink and wet above the lace, lurid and enticing, Stiles looking more than excited about the proceedings.

Stiles leans forward, eager lips already parted, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he goes to suck Chris’ cock into his mouth. Chris, though, has other plans.

"Ah ah," he says warningly, pressing two fingers to Stiles’ forehead to keep him from his goal. "Just lick me. No sucking. Get me nice and wet. Your daddy will thank you for it, I’m sure."

Stiles pouts prettily, eyes darting over to where Isaac is sliding his first finger into Peter’s ass. Peter’s eyelids flutter, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his ass curves even higher, searching for something more. Isaac looks over at Chris, his eyes crinkling at the corners in happiness that he’s pulled that response from the man under his fingers.

"Good boy," Chris praises, sliding the fingers of one hand into Stiles’ hair and scritching at his scalp. "You too, Stiles. Good boys, both of you." While Isaac glows with the praise, Stiles _preens_ and his movements turn more kitten-like. He’s really working Chris’ cock, drooling over the head and then chasing the gobs of spit down with the tip of his tongue until Chris can feel himself dripping. He’d given Stiles a job, and Stiles had done it well. Not wanting to stimulate his cock any further, though, he pulls Stiles off him with a pat. “Now my balls, boy. Wash them well.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Isaac shudder, and he looks over to see that Isaac is staring at them, his body flushed with arousal, even as he _fucks_ Peter’s ass with two fingers now. Every thrust of his fingers inside Peter moves Peter a fraction so that it looks like he’s rocking on his knees for Isaac.

And maybe he is, a little. Maybe he’s whorishly driving himself onto those fingers, because his head has dropped forward, chin against his chest, and from the way the muscles in his arms are flexing and bunching, he’s having a hard time controlling the urge to just take what he needs.

"Faster, Isaac," Chris urges. "He can take it, and I’m ready to fuck him. You can play more when I’m done."

Isaac licks his lips, eyes darting from where Stiles is laving his balls to Chris’ face and back down. “Yes, Daddy.”

Three fingers curling into him is what finally makes Peter snap. He tosses his head back, and snarls over his shoulder at Chris. “Fucking _fuck_ me already!”

Chris looks over with one amused brow arched. “Always demanding, Peter.” And he turns away again, lets Stiles continue for a few moments, just to teach Peter a little lesson, nods for Isaac to continue, and Peter's trembling against the couch, eyes closed, before he breathes a quiet sigh and whispers, “Please, Christopher.”

 _That's_ what the older man has been waiting for. He reaches down and tugs Stiles gently back by a firm grip of his hair, leaves him kneeling there a moment while he turns to his baby boy.

“You did well, Isaac,” he murmurs, pulling his boy into a long, filthy kiss, giving himself a moment to run his hands along the pretty lingerie once more. “Now I want you to lie back on the couch and get that nice, thick cock in your mouth, keep it warm until I say.”

Isaac nods and flashes a smile, climbs eagerly into place. Chris watches with a groan that echoes Peter's as those sweet lips close around the jutting cock, and Chris' twitches, knowing exactly how good Isaac's mouth is. Suddenly he can't wait another second to be in Peter and so he strides to the couch, pushes the younger man forward slightly, incidentally moving Peter's cock further into Isaac's throat.

With a low moan, Chris presses himself into that still tight heat with one torturously slow glide. He holds himself flush against Peter, just letting his hands roam over the man's magnificent chest, before reaching down and carding a hand through Isaac's golden curls below them.

Chris darts a glance over to Stiles, still kneeling so prettily where Chris had left him.

“Alright, boy,” Chris rumbles, “get your ass over here.”

Stiles obeys immediately, kneeling right behind Chris when told, lifting his hands up to curl around the older man's ass cheeks, pulling them apart and dragging his tongue along the cleft, Chris's order to rim him until he comes ringing in his ears.

Chris may have a lot of experience but the last hour has been nothing but overstimulation and he can already feel a flush of heat building up in his belly and making him hot all over. Peter’s warm and tight around him, moaning the most gorgeously depraved noises, head bowed down and muscles taut as he grips the back of the couch. And Stiles’ tongue is so deft on him, just like Chris imagined the boy would be, what with such a sharp mouth when it’s not being put to good use.

Peter starts to swear inelegantly and that makes Chris grin with a little bit of triumph, amping up his thrusting from slow and deep to a more punishing pace. It means Stiles has to pull away, but Chris doesn’t mind, the sensations more than enough to have him teetering on the edge of orgasm.

"So fucking tight, Peter. Has it been a long time since you let anyone do this to you? Were you waiting for me?"

Peter grunts inarticulately but shifts back against him, drawing Isaac with him too, Stiles still hanging on around Chris’ knees. Peter turns his head to the side and Chris can see the beautiful fan of his eyelashes over his cheek, the slight sheen of sweat along his brow. ”Maybe,” Peter answers finally, before biting down into his arm to stifle out a strangled moan when Chris nails into him hard.

"Don’t you dare come before I do, Peter," Chris orders, though he knows it’s only a matter of seconds ‘til he does anyhow.

Peter stiffens below Chris, and Chris thinks he’s about to be disobeyed but then he hears Peter let out a ragged sounding, “ _Stiles_!” He’s about to object to Peter calling someone else’s name while _Chris_ is the one pounding into his tight little ass, but he realizes almost instantly that it hadn’t been a thoughtless, sex-dazed moan.

Instead, it was a command.

Stiles shifts behind him, almost throwing Chris off stride. Still sucking and licking into Chris’ ass, Stiles brings a hand up to tickle over Chris’ balls before sliding those fingers back and rudely thrusting one right into Chris without warning, unerringly buzzing his prostate. The warmth that had been building in his gut explodes with that single touch, and Chris can't maintain his already weak grasp on his control. Mouth dropping open, he grunts in surprised pleasure through two more thrusts before his orgasm swamps him, made all the more earth-shattering by the way Stiles continues to milk his prostate through it.

Peter tightens all around his still-jerking cock, a low groan rumbling from him as Isaac gulps loudly, drinking down Peter’s come.

Chris shakes through it, grinding his spent cock into Peter’s ass until it grows too soft and slips free, watching through slitted eyes as his come bubbles out after it.

Hearing a muffled whimper, he twists and smirks at Stiles, whose glazed-over eyes are staring at the same thing Chris had been. “You want a taste? Hmm?”

Stiles licks his lips, eyes flickering from Chris’ face to Peter’s wrecked ass, and then nods. Chris considers making him beg for it, but he just huffs a soft laugh and staggers back to collapse into a chair to catch his breath.

Stiles dives in, those long clever fingers pulling the cheeks of Peter's ass apart again and sliding his tongue along the cleft, catching the stray drips before laving his tongue along the puffy red rim. Peter makes a strangled noise as he does so, Isaac still suckling until Peter reaches down and tugs him gently away.

Wide blue eyes blink a few times, somewhat glazed over, until Chris calls him over softly. Isaac disengages and squirms off the couch, leaving more room for Peter to lean forward, circling his hands over the back of the couch as Stiles laps at his hole, tongue dipping in again and again to collect all of Chris' come.

The older man watches them as he tugs Isaac into his lap, stroking the pale skin gently as the boy settles his head on his Daddy's shoulder to watch as well.

Once he's cleaned Peter out thoroughly, Stiles slides between his legs and cleans his balls and his cock before pulling back and licking his lips, bright eyes looking up at Peter. He settles to the side, putting his feet up on the coffee table, and lets Stiles nestle into his side.

“Next time, I think we'll use the bed,” Peter sighs as he lays his head back and closes his eyes.

Chris arches a brow, then looks down at Isaac, who's nodding in answer to the question that he hasn't asked yet. With a chuckle, he ruffles the golden curls and then grins over at Peter.

“It's a date.”

 

 

 


End file.
